Never Take Friendship Personal
by MorganEnjoysFanfiction
Summary: A set of Dramione songfic drabbles centered around Draco's thoughts about Hermione, to the songs of Anberlin. Now complete! Please read and review.
1. The Runaways

**A/N: This takes place during HBP, while Ron's with Lavender. To the song "The Runaways" by Anberlin. I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

* * *

Draco Malfoy didn't want detention again; it would ruin his careful planning. He took to going to the library when he could, for the research, and the view.

Hermione Granger had been hiding there more often than usual, and that was saying something. Often Potter was with her, but when she was alone, Draco would hide amongst the library stacks and watch her. When Potter would leave, she would smile a happy smile that would evaporate the moment he vanished from sight. He wished the whole library could be empty, no, the whole world, so for a moment, he might stand a chance with Granger.

_Come closer now  
I know your desire is to be desired  
Steal a kiss yet and call us friends  
Distance is the thief in which you conspire_

Once, on a previous occasion when he watched her, he dropped a book with a heavy crash. Granger spilled her ink everywhere, and Draco had sworn rather badly. She came to investigate, only to find Draco crouched, picking up the tome.

"Malfoy," she said coolly.

"Granger," he replied, just as coolly.

He wished there was warmth between them, and light, and happiness. Not hatred and cold.

_Turn and time and time will tell  
Time will tell or tear us apart  
You're miles and miles and miles away  
Silence reveals where we really are_

_You only stand to break my heart  
I can tell it by the way you runaway,  
Runaway girl  
You only stand to break my heart  
I can tell it by the way you runaway,  
Runaway girl  
Runaway, runaway girl_

Draco knew why she cried: the Weasel. His teeth bared at the thought of the red headed twit and his twattled girlfriend who broke Granger's heart. And still, she cried and cried over him! He admired her devotion. For a heartbeat, he imagined her devotion to him; would she cry like that?

I wish, he thought.

_It's clearer now  
You're nowhere into giving  
Giving into, giving into me  
It's your fault  
You're like a rare disease  
I know you're in love  
With love I believe_

Draco watched her in silence from behind the stacks, watched her tears fall gracefully from the end of her nose, watched her eyes puff blotchily. She still looked pretty to him. He wondered what she would say if he told her he liked her. With an internal wince, he remembered the slap to the face three years previous. Time knew all, he guessed.

_Turn and time and time will tell  
Time will tell or tear us apart  
You're miles and miles and miles away  
Silence reveals where we really are_

_You only stand to break my heart  
I can tell it by the way you runaway,  
Runaway girl  
You only stand to break my heart  
I can tell it by the way you runaway,  
Runaway girl  
Runaway, runaway girl_

Most days, every day in fact, since he had seen her prodigious skill and courage, he wished she wasn't a Mudblood. He wished it would be okay for him to reveal himself from the stacks and sit with her, and talk, and comfort her. But green and red make a muddy brown, and mud wasn't allowed in his home. She turned his world upside-down, Granger did. He wished he wasn't such a coward. He wished he didn't have to bury everything.

_Do you expect me to wait here?  
(All alone in my thoughts and fears)  
My whole life could flash before your eyes  
(Hope one day that you realize)  
This isn't the way it's supposed to be  
(This is your life girl, now without me)  
May regrets for us well up inside  
(As feelings for you are buried alive)  
Buried alive_

He turned away. There wasn't a reason for him to be there, really. The staring and wishful thinking got him nowhere, except into a panic. He had work to do. Most of all, he wished he didn't have to wish. With a whisper of black robes, he stalked out of the library.

_You only stand to break my heart  
I can tell it by the way you runaway,  
Runaway girl  
You only stand to break my heart  
I can tell it by the way you runaway,  
Runaway girl  
Runaway, runaway girl_

Hermione looked up from her textbook, bleary-eyed. She sensed that something outside her scope, like something great had passed and she had missed it in her tears. But she couldn't dwell on that anymore. Homework and heartbreak beckoned.

_I only stand to break your heart  
You can tell it by the way I walk away,  
Runaway girl  
I only stand to break your heart  
You can tell it by the way I run away,  
Runaway girl_


	2. Love Song

**A/N: I'm glad that I got this Dramione songfic drabble thing into my head. I really like writing to songs and poems; it's not as easy as it looks. **

**This is to Anberlin's cover of The Cure's "Love Song." I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

* * *

They rarely if ever sat next to each other on purpose in Potions, but sometimes Draco Malfoy would move as close to Hermione Granger as his Slytherin group would allow. Since he was the Prince of Slytherin, in a fashion, they liked having him in the middle. It hurt his chances that Potter and Weasley wanted her in the middle to cheat off her. Or sniff her hair, he thought; she always smelled so damn good. If he could, he would walk by and breathe deeply. Sandalwood and vanilla, he thought. His mother wore something similar. Women.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am home again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am whole again  
_

"What an absolute arse," Hermione sniffed, looking at the Slytherins at the next table. She wasn't sure what Draco was doing, but it was apparently crude and involved several fingers; even Ron, who detested Malfoy, snorted in appreciation.

Draco looked over Nott's head to see Hermione scribbling, her notes page half a foot long. It wasn't as if she'd never called him an arse or something similar before. It was just that he seemed to be more asinine around her than around anyone else, and he couldn't help it.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am young again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am fun again  
_

That day at lunch, Pansy crawled into his lap and whispered unspeakably nasty things she'd love to do to him into his ear. He agreed, of course, as most red blooded males do, but his tone never wavered above acquiescence and his eyes never left the Gryffindor table. Draco thought it was sad that when he left Pansy every time, he sort of, maybe, wished her hair was a lighter shade of brown.

_However far away  
I will always love you  
However long I stay  
I will always love you  
Whatever words I say  
I will always love you  
I will always love you_

"Granger! Get your filthy hands out of the sink so I can wash them," Draco sneered the next week in Potions. Both of their hands were covered in shredded mandrake leaves, bottlefly wings and sunfish scales from the most recent, arduous potion Snape had set. Hermione flushed, but continued washing her hands under the stone gargoyle. Draco clenched his fists, not out of anger towards her, but because he couldn't apologize for what he had just said. He was Draco Malfoy; she'd never believe him.

She stalked away, her heavy book bag throwing her off-kilter, but he didn't care; it was all the more endearing. As he finally put his hands under the water, he wished it would be boiling hot, to eat away a bit of the shame he felt.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am free again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am clean again_

It was nighttime, dreamtime. Draco lay in his four-poster, surrounded by thick green curtains. His blankets warmed him. He had friends and family who loved him. His grades were top notch and he hardly tried. Yet every time he looked at Granger, a girl hardly worth looking at, he felt like he was at the far end of a telescope, and she was bigger and better than anything he'd ever seen. She was too intelligent, too good, too brave. He pounded his pillow in frustration. Damnit if he didn't have a crush on the Mudblood.

_However far away  
I will always love you  
However long I stay  
I will always love you  
Whatever words I say  
I will always love you  
I will always love you_


	3. Breaking

**A/N: Takes place after DH. I mentioned a few things that should stick close to canon. This is the first drabble to have a T rating. I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

**To the song "Breaking."  
**

* * *

Draco lay in bed next to Hermione, his hands folded over his head. He stared at the ceiling of the muggle hotel, trying to memorize the whorls in the plaster. It was impossible.

At first, he'd liked being a secret. He'd liked stealing her away from the Weasel, but as time wore on, as weeks turned into months, he realized he hadn't stolen her. She had run away from the redhead, to someone new and exciting and less heartbreaking. He wondered how her former enemy could be less heartbreaking sometimes.

_Do you memorize theatrical lines  
That seem to lead them in  
Play the role with the good girl heart  
Hide the tangled webs within  
Who was it that lead you on  
That made you want to hurt me so  
Who do you want to forget  
Who forgot you long ago  
_

He glanced out the window briefly, into muggle London. There had been a show that night at the Palladium he wanted to go to. He wanted Hermione to go with him.

Draco asked her, "Why don't we ever go out together?"

She replied briefly, "You know my job wears me out." But after that they made love three times.

_Do you still feel it  
Calling in the air tonight  
Do you still feel it_

He'd seen Ron only once or twice since his covert relationship with Hermione began. The first time was barely two weeks afterwards during a visit to the Ministry. The man looked like a walking ghost: he was pale, waxy and his eyes held none of the characteristic Golden Trio fire. Though he and Potter were speaking, his lips barely moved.

Draco remembered both Weasley and Potter allowed him to walk by unscathed. He'd even imagined the duel that would have taken place if they knew who Hermione had moved onto next.

_Seems like you've done this before  
You make breaking hearts look so easy  
Seems like you've done this before  
You've got breaking hearts all but down  
Have you done this, you've done this before  
You make stealing hearts look so easy  
Where is the girl I adore  
You've got breaking up all but down  
I can't love a thief anymore_

Draco sighed, his wispy blond hair floating over his forehead. For a year they had continued in this secretive dance. His place, her place, back alleys, bars. It had started casually, him finding her in a bar several blocks from the Ministry's entrance after her public break up with Weasley. Drinks made them laugh and forget their past and soon they were entangled in bedsheets. And she was his, every bit the woman he'd thought she was for the last several years. For he'd watched her. Damned if he didn't. And he knew Weasley didn't deserve her. But he also knew no one deserved heartbreak – the worst feeling in the entire world. His parents broke his heart. Pansy broke his heart once. Living in fear and shame for years during Voldemort's reign constantly set his emotions on edge, hardening him into a shell of his former carefree self. He remembered being a happy boy. He didn't remember being a happy man until Hermione made him laugh in that pub.

Slowly, he turned his head towards the naked woman sleeping next to him. He sighed resignedly, though he didn't really need persuading to see what Hermione was anymore: a heartbreaker.

_Do you collect the souls you've lost  
In the top of your dresser drawer  
Count the number of tears displaced  
On lonely bedroom floors  
A machine where your heart once was  
Slowly takes the place of you  
Only hold the memories now  
Of the love I thought I knew_

_Do you still feel it  
calling in the air tonight  
Do you still feel it_

He rubbed his eyes, hard. He felt the first prickling of tears in the corners. Why? What did he care if Hermione broke Ron Weaselbee's heart a year ago, left him standing in the Auror's office with his mouth agape and tears streaming down his face?

Because she'd do the same to him, and he knew she'd do it soon. And he knew he already loved her, and it would break his heart.

Draco growled softly into the night. Fuck this.

_Seems like you've done this before  
You make breaking hearts look so easy  
Seems like you've done this before  
You've got breaking hearts all but down  
Have you done this, you've done this before  
You make stealing hearts look so easy  
Where is the girl I adore  
You've got breaking up all but down  
And I can't love a thief anymore_

"Hermione," Draco said one evening at her flat. She wasn't listening, but finishing some notes on some important legislation she was pushing through.

"Hermione, please," he said again, stepping towards her. She looked up into his eyes.

"What is it, Draco?"

"Is something the matter? You seem so… off. So out of sorts. You can talk to me," he finished gently.

She scoffed and returned to her notes. "You're reading into too much, Draco."

She'd always been busy. He liked that she was passionate. But 'busy' had too quickly become 'distant,' and soon she'd only shown up on his doorstep for breakfast and a quickie. That had been five months ago.

_You make breaking hearts look so easy  
You've got breaking up all but down  
You make breaking hearts look so easy  
Seems like you've done this before  
You've got breaking hearts all but down  
You've done this, you've done this before  
_

He could protect himself.

He could leave before she did.

He got up slowly, careful not to disturb her slumber. Hermione whimpered, and Draco froze. Half of him was a deer in the wandlight, the other half wanted to slide next to her again, kissing her awake and tell her he would never leave her, not even for a bathroom break.

_The best you could hope to be is  
Now just a bitter sweet memory  
And you make breaking hearts look so easy_

Someone had hurt her. He wanted to know why, and how, and when. Someday, he would. But too many someones had hurt him, and he didn't want to add her to that list. He took one last look from the doorframe and murmured, "A bittersweet memory, indeed." He left without a sound.


	4. Reclusion

**A/N: This sort of skips around a bit, some in first year, some in sixth (I like writing about Draco in 6th year). I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

**To the song "Reclusion."  
**

* * *

Lucius Malfoy taught his son the art of deception at his knee. Or rather, falsities. Whatever it was, Malfoy Senior was a slippery man who showed all of his slicked ways to his son, only to change Draco from within. Draco had been a sweet boy who caught butterflies with his mother if you could believe it. Lucius joined them every once in a while, laughing as gaily as Springtime herself. But around anyone else, he was cold, calculating, and oily smooth. Draco copied him.

By the time Draco was sixteen, he could count the number of real friends he'd had in his life on one hand, and abandoned lovers could not be counted even with his feet. It was all in the mask, his father said once. Apply it like you're pouring honey over your face, and they'll be caught like flies.

And they were.

_There's someone inside me that softly kills everyone around__  
They don't know they're dead to me cause intent never makes a sound__  
All along they found I've strangled, lovers who learned from slower hands  
In these eleven minutes I could teach you what I am_

His mask cracked the first time in first year. He dropped his quill and some lout, some evil loathsome creature stepped on it. He grabbed it quickly, but it was shattered, and besides, he didn't know a spell to repair it. Someone walked up softly behind him and murmured, "Reparo." It mended instantly in his hand. Draco looked around for his savior, expecting an older Slytherin, but the bushy head of Hermione Granger looked back at him. A smile ghosted over his face before being replaced by a savage scowl.

_You're sick, sick as all the secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide  
You're sick, sick as all the secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide_

His mask was perfect, he knew; no one had managed to penetrate it thus far. It was even more important to be a master of illusion now, in sixth year. He was not an idiot; he knew Potter suspected him. Once, in the library researching some inane transfiguration topic (McGonagall would have his head and more if he didn't hand in his homework again), he heard Potter hissing to Granger, trying to convince her of his guilt.

"He's got the Mark, Hermione, I swear!" Potter whispered.

"You have no proof, Harry," she whispered back, burying her head in an old text. "I know it looks suspicious, but… remember Snape? And Quirrell? He was trying to _save_ your life and you thought he was trying to kill you. Maybe this is the same thing."

Potter looked unconvinced, and Draco was confused. He rubbed his arm and shivered. Her belief shook him.

_There's an art in seclusion, production in depression  
If a stranger turns up missing, count this song as my confession  
Tell the tales of the trail of dead, lovers learn from slower hands  
Losing self in myself, inner demons make demands_

Draco remembered once when he was very small, his father carried him up to his room and locked the door. He cried and cried and cried but no one would come get him, not even his mother. Eventually, after hours of screaming, he fell asleep. He awoke against his mother's breast, clean and cared for, happy and safe. He had no idea the Lestranges had been there, looking for a place to hide. He wouldn't know for another fifteen years.

His father simply told him, "Keep it up, son. It protects you and the people you love." But he didn't love anyone except his family. It seemed like a brutal double-edged sword.

_You're sick, sick as all the secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide  
You're sick, sick as all the secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide_

Draco really didn't know how many women he'd been with, but it was a big number: a lot of Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and one or two Hufflepuffs just to mix it up. Pansy was always a good standby, though, and it was her he lay next to tonight. She breathed deeply, sated in sleep, while he tossed restlessly, his thoughts scattering like nervous birds. He remembered Granger repairing his quill; he never forgot it. Pansy knew about the Dark Mark on his arm; how could she not when she'd seen him naked a hundred times? But underneath his fear and self-loathing, he wondered what Granger would say if she saw it. He gave a short, snorting laugh when he imagined her poring through the library, looking for a way to take it off. He closed his eyes. What a fitting way to show her the real Draco Malfoy, he thought. He snorted again.

_You're suffocating me, so very hard to breathe  
My mask is growing heavy but I've forgotten who's beneath_

Draco sent for several new quills the day after Hermione fixed his. He hid the most ornate one, made from an eagle's feather, in her bag in potions when no one was looking. He watched her use it for years until it grew old and tattered. He knew that she knew he gave it to her.

_You're sick, sick as all the secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide  
You're sick, sick as all the secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide_


	5. Cadence

**A/N: This is the last chapter I'm posting before marking this set of drabbles complete. I might post more. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and I hope to see more fans in the future! This takes place in third year. I do not own Harry Potter.**

**To the song, "Cadence." Try the acoustic version.  
**

* * *

He didn't tell anyone, but Draco kept a diary. It was a little something he'd found in the back of Flourish and Blotts in first year. He only wrote a few sentences in it each night, like _Snape took twenty points off Potter today. What a riot._ Or, _Quidditch practise was horrible today. We'll lose for sure. _

He didn't want to notice how many of his diary entries contained comments about Granger after she had slapped him. That day had been embarrassing to say the least; the following nights only infuriated him more when he found he could write of nothing but Hermione.

_Write down, to remind yourself on how it can be, how it can be  
Heartstrings, you're tugging at my heartstrings, now, heartstrings  
Helpless, I have become so helpless to your touch,  
Oh, touch me somehow  
Restless, you leave me restless  
Breathless wait for me_

That night, he had touched his hand to his cheek in the privacy of his closed-curtains four poster. A small part of him almost had been surprised to find she wasn't slicked with grease or covered in slime: in other words, dirty. What else could a Mudblood feel like to the touch but grit and grime and wrongness? Yet her eyes weren't the dull cow's eyes he might have expected from an ignorant peasant: she was indeed magical. She was passionate, full of anger, her very fingertips seemed to spark. He closed his eyes, remembering how he had looked so briefly into hers. Draco sighed, reached under his pillow and pulled out his diary.

_The closer I come to you  
The closer I am to finding God  
You're a miracle to me  
The closer I come to you  
The closer I am to finding God  
You're a miracle to me_

Draco couldn't concentrate. His face still stung where her palm had struck his cheek and her nails had grazed his temple. He glanced furtively towards the Gryffindor table. That happy trio sat together talking and laughing. He sneered and touched his burning cheek. Hermione's laugh rang out clearly. Weaselbee and Potter grinned hugely with her, for a brief moment carefree. He looked away and tried to concentrate on his kippers.

_Burning, like Joan of Arc to see you, just to feel you  
Cadence, well I dance with the dead cause I believe  
yes I believe, yes I believe  
Stifle, Paul said that you stifle him  
again and again and again  
_  
No one ever noticed it (except for Pansy, who was simply weird that way), but Granger gave him a scar that day. Her nail dug into his temple and he never noticed the blood until Crabbe pointed it out several hours later, motioning rather stupidly towards his ear until Draco wiped his face and smeared a thin streak of blood into his hair. Only his Malfoy upbringing prevented his mighty vanity from prevailing at that point.

No one ever knew about that scar. No one ever knew that late at night, he would touch the small pit and think. Think about his day, his friends, the weather. He did it especially during exams and other pressurizing things. He found that ironic.

_The closer I come to you  
The closer I am to finding God  
You're a miracle to me  
The closer I come to you  
The closer I am to finding God  
You're a miracle to me  
_

Draco had no idea where to run or what to do. The Dark Lord wanted Potter, right? Well, he could get him himself. The man had saved his life and the life of his good friend, and he would never betray that bond. That unbreakable trio whispered around the dusty old tiara. It seemed to be leaking… blood? No. Whatever it was, Draco wouldn't stick around long enough to find out.

He was sooty and burnt, and he felt older than ancient. He trembled as he walked, the castle shuddering around him. He peered over his shoulder towards the Golden Trio. Granger returned his gaze. He suddenly remembered her slapping him back in third year; it seemed like a long time ago. He wondered if that was why he didn't allow Goyle to topple those books upon her. Internally he smiled. The middle of a war was a poor place for introspection.

Still, he looked back at her for a second before continuing on.

_And if these are my parting words  
Grant me this, my last request  
Hold me here, until I sleep  
If I burn, then I burn for you_

She was nearing the Potions dungeon; Draco could have sworn he saw her just a minute ago heading up the stairs, but then, bushy brown hair wasn't that uncommon in Hogwarts.

Granger walked into the dungeon and walked straight up to his desk. "This is yours, Malfoy," she said crisply. She placed his potions book gently on the cold stone table.

"What makes you say that?" He sneered, but his face felt the presence of its attacker and had already begun to sting. It was enough to calm him into his usual cool demeanor.

"It has your name in the cover," she replied. "I would never leave a book lying in the hall." She turned and sat with her friends, who stared like she was an Amazon warrior.

Draco grasped the book and looked on the inside cover. Sure enough, it said _This book is property of Draco A. Malfoy._

He'd have to be more careful, he thought. It was something he wrote in his diary that night, along with what he felt when Hermione looked at him as she slid the book towards him.

_The closer I come to you  
The close I am to finding God __  
You're a miracle to me  
The closer I come to you  
The closer I am to finding God  
You're a miracle to me_


	6. Haight St

**A/N: I marked this set of songfics complete already, but this came to me and so I wrote it :) I think it's the best yet. I do not own Harry Potter.**

**To the song "Haight St."  
**

* * *

Draco Malfoy traveled for business, not pleasure. His businesses were building his family's empire and forgetting his past. Several takeovers later and he was the third richest wizard in the world, to his father and an eccentric man from Texas who used magic to discover oil wells.

Whenever his father mentioned a magic or Muggle company that just might do better under new management, Draco leapt at the chance to leave England and see the world, for of course, he loved to travel, and what better way to forget that every wizard in the United Kingdom believed him to be a murderer than to leave it?

He was content now to be in San Francisco. There were deals to be made, expensive things to buy and pretty American girls to woo with his accent. He smiled inwardly at that thought as he rounded the corner of Haight Street. Something, however, stopped him dead. It was Hermione Granger, and she was coming out of a Muggle music store.

_Let's you and me, make our way just beyond Haight Street.  
Let's leave this life behind, forgetting all they say.  
The time we had is time well borrowed.  
Stay out all night, forget tomorrow.  
_

They saw each other at the same moment. She glanced up, and paled considerably (and admirably, he thought) when she saw him. He smiled as easily as he could and walked towards her.

"Granger," he nodded.

"Malfoy," she replied curtly, rifling through a bohemian beaded purse. "I didn't know you lived in San Francisco."

"I don't, I'm here on business," he said. "Do you live here? I thought you worked for the Ministry. Though it's been…"

"Three years. Something like that." Hermione looked up at him. He was rather tall. "I have to be going now. I suppose I'll see you back home."

"Wait." Draco took a half step towards her. "Would you like to go out tonight?"

She paused for a long moment, looking down towards her purse. At last she looked up and said, "Sure, Malfoy."

_Let's you and me, make a night of it.  
Old enough to know, but too young to care.  
Let's you and me, make a night of it.  
Old enough to know, but too young to care. _

They met at a restaurant called RNM – it was sleek, modern, and appealing, though Hermione said nothing about it. The food was delicious, and Draco paid for everything.

They hardly spoke, though they wanted to. There were questions they each wished to voice, but it seemed almost inappropriate. After the appetizers, after the wonderful entrees, after the luscious desserts, they left. He helped her into his sleek Mercedes, catching her eye in the mirror as he did.

_The rear view mirror shows the times we're abandoning.  
Let's leave this night behind, forgetting all they say.  
The time we had is time well borrowed.  
Stay out all night; forget tomorrow.  
_

"You said you're researching house elf abuse, Granger?" Draco said softly in the silence of the cab.

"That's right, Malfoy."

"Bullshite."

_Let's you and me, make a night of it.  
Old enough to know, but too young to care.  
Let's you and me, make a night of it.  
Old enough to know, but too young to care._

Draco braked the car hard. He did not care that he was in the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge. That point was moot; what mattered was that Hermione Granger, Girl Wonder, was shattering his sense of decorum.

Car horns blared, but he gave them no notice. Hermione stood her ground before him, staring him down with her arms folded. "What is your problem, Malfoy?" She said angrily, her words hurling towards him like javelins.

"Maybe I don't believe you came here to research house elves," he shot back just as quickly. He stepped closer and crossed his arms as well. "I think that cavorting around a city eight time zones away is something a woman does right after a brain transplant. Or something one does when they're hiding."

Hermione's eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm not lying. I've been researching house elf abuse."

"Shall I send an owl to the ministry to see if that's true?"

"Do it!" She threw her hands in the air. "It's all perfectly true. Why do you care, Malfoy?"

The question he wasn't prepared to answer came sooner than he wanted. He nearly backed up a step, but instead let out a slow breath.

"Pansy owled me. About her and Weasley." She gasped in horror, her hands flying to her mouth. "That's why I care. You can't keep it a secret forever."

It took a moment for Hermione to compose herself. She leaned back against the railing and looked out towards the San Francisco skyline. She said finally, "In the morning I apparate to the Ministry. I do my job. If I see Ron, I don't say anything. If I see Harry, I… can't say anything. He has no idea what's going on. No one does. In the evening I apparate somewhere else. I was staying with Neville and Hannah Abbott for a while, but then I was sent on assignment, and I just… haven't left."

Draco looked with her towards the city lights, and sighed softly. "I'm sorry Hermione," he whispered.

_(Who cares?)  
If there's trouble tonight,  
(Who cares?)  
'cause the kids are alright.  
Tonight we'll take this town,  
'cause we're old enough to know, but too young to care._

She looked up and said sharply, "What did you say?"

"I said," he elucidated, "I was sorry."

"Don't be sorry for me," she snorted. But tears began to roll down her cheeks. "If Ron really wants someone like Pansy Parkinson, that is just fine with me."

Draco snorted as well, though out of a sarcastic mirth. "You realize she's my ex-girlfriend. Of a sort."

Hermione just sighed. She shook herself and wiped her tears messily, though Draco made no move towards her.

He said after a moment, "You were at my trial." Indeed, before today, it had been the last time he had really seen her.

She started, the change in topics strange to her one-track mind. She looked at him and murmured, "I was."

"I want to know why."

"Why-"

"Do not ask me why the hell I care, Granger." His tone was dangerous. "It was my life on the line, and you were there. Now tell me why."

His grey eyes bore into hers, angry and unashamed. But Hermione saw the tiniest hint of fear, and so she answered, "It was me that gave the evidence that secured your release. That you showed mercy and restraint."

"I-"

"I cared, alright!" Hermione burst out suddenly, throwing her hands up. "I couldn't see you be thrown to the dementors. It just wasn't right. I just couldn't."

"Well a lot of good it did me!" Draco screamed over the blaring of another car horn. "Everyone thinks I paid someone to get off! They still think I'm bloody guilty! Your nobility has done nothing, and it's destroying your own family back home!" His words were bitter and biting but still she did not look away. "For once in your life, tell me your reasoning! Tell me why you saved my life!"

_Let's you and me, make a night of it.  
Old enough to know, but too young to care.  
Let's you and me, make a night of it.  
Old enough to know but too young to care._

They breathed heavily, panting with the exertion of holding back everything they wanted to say.

Draco stepped closer, pressing her to the railing, and murmured, "Why."

She tried to look in his eyes. They flickered to them, but rested on his ear out of fear. She wetted her lips and said softly, "You're just special, Malfoy."

He smiled a tiny half-smile and watched it echo on her lips. But his next words, which would have been beautiful, surely, were interrupted by skidding tires. A SFPD blazoned car skidded to a stop next to the Mercedes and a uniformed officer stepped out.

"Alright, guys," the officer said, bored and annoyed. "You're gonna have to take this somewhere else."

Draco smirked, his shadowed lids half-closed. He looked at Hermione, who recognized that look from too many adventures with Harry and Ron. She grasped his hand tightly and did not let go.

"That sounds perfectly fine, officer," Draco said in a clipped voice. "But may I ask you something?"

The officer stepped closer, suspicious. "Sure kid."

"How many people-" Draco and Hermione backed flat against the railing. "-have you ever seen fly?"

"Kid…"

"Watch."

Over they went, out towards the ocean, neither letting go of the other's hand.

_(Who cares?)  
If there's trouble tonight,  
(Who cares?)  
'cause the kids are alright.  
Tonight we'll take this town,  
'cause we're old enough to know, but too young to care._

The watched CNN the next morning, still in their rumpled pajamas, laughing and laughing as divers scanned the bottom of the ocean, looking for two people who would never be found.


	7. the symphony of blasé

**Heyo everyone! Yet again, the muse has struck. Please enjoy! This takes place in first year, before Hermione is a part of the Golden Trio.**

**To the song, "(the symphony of) ****blasé"**

* * *

Though he was loathe to admit it, Draco Malfoy would look into her eyes when no one else could see. He was even more loathe to admit that he was hurt by what he saw. There was such pain, such huge iron walls behind her earthy eyes; it was almost unbearable.

_Are there no shadows where you are?  
I can see everything as day  
Problems that you try to hide away  
Pushing me aside (You're pushing me aside)_

_Could the winter calm come twice?  
Because your heart seems so cold tonight  
Thirst for substance somehow isn't right  
It's killing me inside (It's killing you inside)  
Killing me inside_

He wondered how no one else saw what he saw in her eyes. In fact, he marveled at how they shunned her, those petty, insolent Gryffindors. He might not be a perfect person (and again, he was loathe to admit that), but he knew what loyalty and friendship were. He had good friends, and he would be loyal to them… well, to a point. Regardless, it astounded him that no one else saw the thirst for knowledge and love of life her saw in her eyes. Not for anything in the world, not even for a short conversation with her (which he was loathe to admit would be thoroughly stimulating) would he sink to that level.

_I don't wanna be where you are  
I don't wanna be here even now  
I don't wanna be by your side  
If something isn't right  
If something isn't right_

_This is our last goodnight  
Say what you will  
Say all that you can  
Words have no meaning  
When I've seen where you've been_

_This is our last goodnight  
Say what you will  
Say all that you can  
This is our last goodbye  
This is where love ends_

He thought she must have discovered the Hogwarts library within days of arriving. Sure enough, every time he had to fetch a book, she was there, always with a different dusty tome. He never meant to, he would admit, but he often found himself watching her. She was absorbed in the text, with parchment and ink strewed around her. Older students came and went, giggling all the while; Ravenclaw study groups whispered heatedly; and Madam Pince swooped throughout the stacks, her eyes forever searching for property damage. Hermione never saw this, though. Her eyes never moved except for the next word. In these moments, he loathed to admit, he felt the most pity. Pity for this brilliant, bushy-haired girl.

_Are you so naive to right and wrong  
How could you watch innocence forgone  
Does what we've done ever really belong?  
It wasted me away (I feel so wasted away)_

_God if you can hear me out alright  
Please take these feelings for her inside  
My chest hurts when I breathe tonight  
It's wasting me away (You're wasting me away)  
You're wasting me away_

He thought to himself at night, "She is a Mudblood. She is a Mudblood and that is final." And with that he would roll over and try to fall asleep. He clung to his one damning fact like a lifeline whenever he felt something, anything, for Hermione Granger: She was the Gryffindor Mudblood.

_I don't wanna be where you are  
I don't wanna be here even now  
I don't wanna be by your side  
If something isn't right  
If something isn't right_

_This is our last (This is our last)  
This is our last goodnight  
Say what you will  
Say all that you can  
Words have no meaning  
When I've seen where you've been_

The day after Halloween, Draco watched her slip timidly between Potter and the Weasel at breakfast. Potter moved over to allow her room, while the Weasel smiled and offered her some toast. She smiled for the first time since she came to Hogwarts. He believed he was the only one who noticed.

He thought, as he helped himself to some bacon, that the friendship would be short-lived. She was so intelligent, so passionate, and she would never, ever give up the little library girl for anyone. With that, he put Granger out of his mind.

_This our last goodnight  
Say what you will  
Say all that you can  
This is our goodbye  
This is where love ends_

_This is our last goodnight  
Say what you will  
Say all that you can  
Words have no meaning  
When I've seen where you've been_

_This is our last goodnight  
Say what you will  
Say all that you can  
This is our last goodbye  
This is where love ends_


End file.
